You weren’t supposed to be at the school that day.

Technically, you’d already graduated — long before WAVE was even a name in anyone’s mouth. But with debut plans stalled and the company pestering you about finding the perfect visual, you needed a break from the endless trainee building and the mirror rooms that smelled of sweat and stress.

You thought a quiet walk through your old campus might help. Just a little nostalgia.

The place hadn’t changed much — the cracked basketball court, the vending machine that always ate coins, the faint scent of chalk and rain. You tugged your hoodie lower over your head and stuffed your hands into your pockets, not wanting to be recognized.

And then you saw him.

Sitting alone on a bench near the science building, head tilted slightly, sunlight catching strands of his soft blonde hair. He was hunched over a thick textbook, glasses sliding down his nose, completely absorbed in whatever he was reading. There was a nervous stillness about him — the kind that made people fade into the background.

But for some reason, he didn’t fade.

He caught your attention the way a melody does before the lyrics form — quiet, unexpected, but clear.

Maybe it was the way his fingers fidgeted with his pen, or the way his eyes darted around like he was solving problems even the world couldn’t see. You weren’t looking for perfection anymore — just someone who felt real.

You hesitated, then walked over.

“Hey,” you said casually, trying not to sound like a recruiter. “Do you—”

He looked up.

And for a second, everything stopped.

His eyes were wide — startled, like a deer caught in headlights. He blinked once, twice, lips parting slightly, and then—

He ran.

No hesitation. No words. Just turned on his heel, grabbed his bag, and sprinted down the path like you were some kind of threat.

You stood there, utterly stunned, one hand still half-raised.

“What the…” you muttered under your breath.

A few students nearby looked your way, whispering. You quickly adjusted your hood, turning away before anyone could recognize you.

You sighed, rubbing your temples. Of all the reactions you’d expected — rejection, awkwardness, confusion — running hadn’t been on the list.

But somehow, you knew that wasn’t the last time you’d see him.

Because now you really wanted to know who the hell he was — and why he ran.